


Give me one good movie kiss and I'll be alright

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [141]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bakery, Chatting & Messaging, Childhood Friends, Developing Friendships, Drunken Shenanigans, Getting Together, HYDRA Husbands, Implied Sexual Content, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Mutual Pining, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28234611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: Jack always sits there watching, thinking how stupid they are. How do you get wasted so badly that you don't even realize you're marrying a stranger?
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [141]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/547894
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Give me one good movie kiss and I'll be alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/gifts).



> I asked her to give me a prompt since I dropped out of an exchange for reasons and one was _Drunken Vegas marriage that the judge won't annul until they've tried out the marriage for a two months_. I fudged the judge thing a little but hopefully the rest is satisfactory <3

Jack’s awake. 

He’s acutely aware of this when he is instead of lazily sitting on the line of grogginess and sleep, but he keeps his eyes closed as he sorts out the immediate knowledge that he’s not in his own bed which means he’s on a business trip and takes inventory of what's going on. 

Unfortunately, when he thinks about it, Jack's memories of the night before are a blurry mess at best. The only clear thing is the sharp stab of pain in his head, the weird ambient noise that roams his thoughts and, oddly, the confusing sensation that he feels okay for once despite all the hangover issues.

He knows he’d been drunk last night and when he finally opens his eyes to look around the room before him, clearly he wasn’t just drunk he’d been utterly _wasted_ , which was out of the ordinary for him. 

Slowly it comes to him that his flight was cancelled because of the storm, soon after that he parked himself at the bar to drink the night away with a few glasses so he could rest easy for the morning since there wasn’t much else to do. It makes sense, for the most part, nothing really strikes him particularly out of place.

Well, besides the other person naked in the bed.  _ That _ he finds unlike him.

The thing is, he isn't exactly mad about it. The guy who's still sleeping soundly is good looking, lean and muscular; his face is rugged and handsome, well from what he can see while it’s partially covered by the pillow, even cute with the way his hair is messy and draped over his eyes. It almost makes Jack want to push it back just to feel it against his fingers.

All in all, drunk Jack did well for himself.

And really, why wouldn't he pick up a random stranger from the bar? He had been stuck in the airport all day, hoping against all odds that one of the flights to New York would just leave.

Before that, he’d been stuck at the IBIE baking expo for most of the day, talking to big wigs he didn’t really care about, and pandering to chefs who thought they were hot shit when all he wanted was to check out new equipment, take in current innovative ideas and sample his weight in pastries and desserts. By the time it ended he had been looking forward to going home, soaking in a hot bath with a good book and shedding some of the stress away before he sorted through paperwork from his Vegas weekend.

Instead, thanks to the stupid storm, no plane had been able to leave the airport and he had been forced to wait until the early AM, when unsurprisingly the last flight of the day had been officially cancelled.

All in all, this is probably the best outcome he could have hoped for.

Now that he’s at this point though, he wonders if he should wake up his handsome stranger to hint he should get a move on out, or if he should offer the guy the breakfast menu so they can eat together before he goes as a sort of courtesy.

Random hookups are not something he’s prone to do often, if even regularly, especially  _ drunken  _ random hookups. Jack has always been too busy to branch out and meet new people. His focus had been on culinary school, then trying to create a name for himself as a baker and then, after the accident, saying fuck it to everything else and following his dreams to open his own business.

So he can admit to himself that he is a little taken aback by the situation. He raises his hand to his neck, feeling a little nervous, hoping to maybe find a solution to his predicament when there’s a gentle sensation of something cool at the nape. 

He freezes and quickly brings his hand before him to take a look.

All of a sudden he wonders if he really is awake or if he’s in some deep sleep that makes him only  _ think _ he’s awake. It’s like a scene from a movie, one of those common tropes he’s seen in occasional romcoms where the main characters ended up getting married in Vegas and Jack always sits there watching, thinking how stupid they are. How do you get wasted so badly that you don't even realize you're marrying a stranger?

This wasn’t happening.

There's terror building up in his throat, ugly and encompassing. It might also be the beginning of a panic attack, he’s not entirely sure, both are all too familiar sensations that begin this way as his chest seems to be tightening within him.

Maybe this is just a mistake. Maybe they‘d been drunk and stupid, and just bought things from some hawker on the street and  _ pretended _ to get married.

He glances over at the handsome man in his bed, a man whose name he doesn't even know and who might also be his husband. He just  _ stares _ for a good long time as he struggles to regulate his breathing before abruptly reaching out to shake him. "Hey, wake up. Get up, are you wearing a ring?"

The man startles awake, going from sound asleep to deadly alert in two seconds flat, he also looks ready to punch Jack in the face. That would be great, maybe it would make him forget everything that happened the past twenty four hours permanently. 

"The ‘ell- ?" The man mumbles out in confusion, but Jack doesn't have time.

“A _ring_!” Jack repeats, his voice reaching highs he didn't think was possible. “Are you wearing a ring?”

The man blinks twice, obviously taking in what’s going on and then he looks down at his own hand. Jack follows his gaze and freezes when he sees the black tungsten band on his finger, matching the one on Jack's.

Well shit.

Jack removes his hand from his apparent  _ husband’s _ shoulder while at the same time attempts to remember how to _breathe_.

He has to be logical about this: it isn't the worst thing he could have done while drunk. Though, he should ask what this man’s name is, shouldn’t he? He’s probably just as shocked as he is, and it’s Vegas, it’s probably a thing where there’s a revolving door to get married and then another one to get divorced. 

"Are ya sure this is what we’re thinkin’ it is?" The guy says looking at his own hand. He doesn't seem to be panicking as much as Jack is, face a little pale against tanned skin and there’s a little bit of a tremor in his voice but mostly he’s kind of resigned. "Ain’t there proof of shit like that?"

"I don't know. I’ve never married someone before." He says, but at the same time he feels better having something to do. He gets up, trying to find their clothes in the mess that is the room, and realizes that he is also, in fact, completely naked.

He looks behind him, but the guy doesn't seem to be interested in watching him. He debates for a second if he should cover himself, but he also thinks that it might be even more awkward than just continuing like he doesn’t even notice what he looks like right then.

In the end, he just reaches for his own pants and searches in his pocket without putting them on. He finds change, some receipts and a photo of the two of them kissing with an Elvis impersonator behind, his arms outstretched and smiling at them.

So, that's probably a yes to the wedding.

He hears rustling beside him and he looks back to see his yet named husband is seated on the edge of the bed with a camera in his hands. He looks paler than he did earlier. Great, not a good sign.

Jack returns to him, photo held tight in his hand, and wonders what he should say to the stranger he just married. The sheer terror from when he woke up is still there, bubbling under the surface, but seeing it building also in the other man makes Jack feel a little more settled.

He has always been better noticing and contemplating other people's problems rather than facing his own feelings.

The guy doesn’t angle the camera towards him, but Jack can see in the little screen a series of photos that reveal them in various states of drunkenness while they go and sign the wedding documents.

“I guess..” He begins, trying to figure out how to make the situation better. “It could have been worse, we could have killed someone.”

Jack winces internally the moment the words leave his mouth, realizing that despite being married to this person, they may not appreciate his weird sense of humor right then. If his head would just stop pounding maybe he would actually think of something more useful to say.

A beat of silence passes between them, where Jack considers apologizing, before there’s a reply. “Yeah. We coulda robbed a bank or somethin’.”

Jack looks up, surprised but also a little relieved.

“Yeah, or drugs. Drugs could be worse.” He throws in with a little smirk. The other man looks at him and returns the expression, tentative and still a little pallid.

“Thankfully it was only marriage this time.” His guest says, tone deadpan and all too serious just before Jack can’t help himself and breaks out in a smile. He’d laugh too if he was sure he wouldn’t also break down over it because he's finally lost his mind.

All in all, he guesses, it could be worse. He’s pretty sure they can just annul the wedding since they were both intoxicated and there was no basis of consent in their union.

Jack feels better now, a little more focused.

“So.” He says as he mulls over his words. “Should we have breakfast before we go and try to see how to annul our marriage, husband?”

The other man blinks again, like he’s slowly getting over the shock then nods. “Yeah, sure why not? I don't think I’ll be able to deal with any more surprises before I get some coffee.”

Jack nods understandingly and supposes this man is probably dealing with the same headache he’s got after waking up in a strange bed. 

The moment they decide the biggest issue they have is put aside until after some much needed food and coffee, all the other problems of the day resurface. Namely the fact that he’s naked, and that most of his body is reminding him loudly why he doesn’t get shit-faced drunk anymore.

Realizing it’s probably too late for modesty, he stands up and puts on his boxers from the night before without ceremony. From the corner of his eye he sees the other guy do the same and realizes that he still doesn't know the name of his husband.

He reaches his hand forward with a smile, hyper aware of how weird this probably looks to anyone else. “I’m Jack Rollins, by the way, you can call me Jack if you like instead of doing what I’m doing and calling you apparent husband in my head.” It seems only polite, after all.

The other man seems confused for a second, almost as if he hadn’t expected it. Jack doesn’t really know _why_ , introducing himself at this point seems like the most normal thing they’ve done in the past twenty four hours.

“M’Brock..” The other says, extending his own hand and shaking Jack’s. “I guess Brock Rollins, at this point.”

While Brock shakes his hand Jack looks at him, actually  _ looks _ at him for a second, and it hits him like a ton of bricks. He probably wouldn’t have remembered if not for those coppery brown eyes.

The person standing in front of him, Jack’s _husband_ , is Brock. The same Brock that he was friends with when he was just a kid, the one he lost touch with after there were rumors going around about his dad and suddenly his teacher told the class Brock had moved away and out of the city they shared.

He distinctly remembers the both of them hiding out in the woods by the creek where they always went when Brock had issues at home, his friend hinting about how he may have to live with his Nonna soon but was vague about everything else. Jack was only nine then, he didn’t know how to keep the one friend he’d grown attached to, the only one he cared deeply for except to ask that he come back one day and they’d get married.

He never told anyone about it, and of course he didn’t take it seriously as time passed. He can now accept how extreme it was, but at least with this new insight he can slowly piece together what conspired at the bar.

It seems that Brock remembers or realizes the same thing by the little smirk he’s trying to hide. God, Jack wants to die.

“Wow.” Jack starts, but really he doesn’t know what to say. Is there really something he can say to make this less awkward? “I could have taken your surname, you don’t know. Can’t jump to conclusions.”

Brock laughs as he shakes his head, and that deep familiarity wraps around him. “Nah, m’sure I took yers. I always liked it.”

It strikes Jack as something strange to say, especially to your childhood friend whom you haven’t seen in a long time, but they’ve been hitting new levels of awkwardness all morning.

He must have looked surprised for far too long because Brock just takes Jack’s pants from the floor and throws them in his direction with an annoyed huff. “M’gonna need coffee, and then we can go back to freakin’ out, yeah?”

Jack is used to doing whatever he wants on his own time, but being led didn’t seem all that bad and that order is definitely something he can get behind. “Yeah, we both need a little pick me up.”

*****

Over breakfast they talk a little, but the conversation is a little awkward and stilted. Jack can’t stop looking at the black band on the other’s finger and Brock seems to have lost the pale complexion he was carrying around from before yet he’s looking around like he has to know where the escapes are.

After they eat they ask the concierge, a little embarrassed to even have to ask at all, what to do to file an annulment and find, to their relief and shame, that it’s actually a pretty common thing that happens and is playfully coined as a ‘Las Vegas annulment’.

They need to file a request, signed by both the spouses and it would have to be reviewed which takes about four to eight weeks time. After that, their union would be completely annulled and it would be like they were never married at all.

“Ya mean we’re gonna be married fer at least four weeks?” Brock wonders out loud, looking at the pamphlet, because yeah, there’s a pamphlet for this kind of mess; they both try absorbing the new information. 

“Up to eight.” Jack points out, because at this point why not assume the worst case scenario, they’re already in so deep.

Brock nods as he glances up at him and then looks back at the pages in his own hand. “We don't gotta pretend to be married, right?”

“No, I think that after we file for the annulment we can just go our separate ways.” Jack explains, reading the FAQ posted at the website just to make positively sure. It’s a relief they don’t have to because he doesn’t know where Brock lives these days but Jack has to go back home soon; he has work to do and Wanda has already called him three times, wondering what had happened with his flight delay.

Jack still hasn’t picked up, scared to tell her exactly what a mess he’s gotten himself into. He’s lucky she knows her way around enough that she has everything related to the business under control.

“So we jus..” Brock stops and shrugs. “..go our separate ways then?”

It’s a strange thought, even if he hadn't seen Brock in over twenty years before this whole situation happened. Also he’s making an effort not to think about anything else they have done during the night, well he tries, but he’s only human and Brock has left him a few hickey’s and bruised bite marks as well as really long, angry red scratches down his back that smart if he leans against anything. They all unintentionally remind him constantly of what probably happened. 

“Yeah. I have to go to the airport, see about my replacement ticket from that storm.” He explains. 

Out of the blue he feels the need to apologize, but he’s not sure why. It’s as much Brock’s fault as it is his so he shouldn’t need to but it still lingers in the air around him and he can’t help it.

“Yeah, me too.” Brock says as he glances up at Jack with a strange look in his eyes.

Jack doesn’t even have time to think too much about it before he notices they should be getting set to check out and he hasn’t packed up all his things yet. “Well, we have to leave soon, did you want to split a cab?”

Brock hesitates for a second before he smiles and gives him a nod. “Sure, I always did believe in a marriage where the couple has a shared bank account.”

Jack laughs and suddenly feels kind of glad that they can have a little more time together.

On the cab ride to the airport something shifts between them, and soon their conversation becomes easier, flows between them with less uncomfortable silences and unease.

Brock tells him that he’s now living in Brooklyn, he’s a personal trainer and amateur boxer, he’d been in Las Vegas for a photoshoot with some brand he uses. Jack tells him of Wanda and his fledgling business. Brock tells him about his friends and Jack tries his best to update Brock on all the random gossip he had missed in their old neighborhood. They don’t talk about the accident, but he sees Brock looking at his facial scar a lot.

When they find themselves in front of the check in counter it’s Brock, surprisingly, that asks if they can have a seat next to each other since they’re both taking the same flight. It makes Jack smile, happy and a little relieved in a way, like it takes some pressure off he didn’t know he was holding. When the ticket agent tells them she’s not sure she can do it, Jack just takes Brock’s hand and fixes his face with a hopeful gaze her way. “It would mean a lot, we just got married and I’d hate to be sitting away from him.”

He sees the surprise in Brock’s eyes, but he also jumps in to join the act and pulls Jack’s hand up so the woman can see their rings sparkle under the bright, hot lights above them all the while dazzling her with a grin.

She looks at them and gets this wistful look in her eyes after a second. “I’ll see what I can do.”

It takes the agent a couple of minutes but in the end she gives them two seats together in first class.

“I forgot how charmin’ you could be.” Brock says softly as he scans over his ticket and they head for security. Jack glances over at how he’s smiling to himself, he really doesn’t know how to answer since they were kids the last time they were together, how much charm did he have to throw out? It suddenly dawns on him what Brock’s implying and the back of his neck warms.

“Well I didn’t lie, did I?” He offers with a smirk, and he’s rewarded with Brock’s rich laugh. 

He forgot how much he missed that very specific laugh of his, it’s barely changed, just a little louder and deeper.

They keep talking the whole flight, five hours of uninterrupted conversation while sipping on congratulatory glasses of champagne they take in moderation, and it feels right. It feels good. Brock talks about the death of his father a little bit, he’s slightly quiet, a little too honest and open, it’s endearing to Jack. Apparently it was in prison and there’s no love loss about it, but he knows it’s still something close and private to him. Jack in return opens up about the car accident he was in, how it shattered a lot of his dreams when it happened, but then he focused on getting better and decided to act on making at least one come true. 

Brock puts a hand over Jack’s to comfort him, and when their rings touch it doesn’t feel as weird as that morning. Jack lets his fingers spread apart a little so Brock’s weaves his in between and they stay like that the rest of the flight.

When the time comes for them to part it doesn’t feel like they’ve been talking for almost seven hours. Jack wants to stay and talk some more, find an excuse to prolong the conversation.

But he knows it’s not possible.

“I, um..” He starts, pressing his lips together a moment trying to form words properly. “It was nice seeing you again, Brock. Even under the circumstances.”

“Ya make it seem like bein’ married to me is such a chore.” Brock teases with a smirk and a playful glint in his eye.

“Give me your work website, I’ll give you a good review. ‘Best person to marry in Vegas while drunk. Five out of five stars. Would do it all over again.’ You’ll be booked for months.”

Brock smirks, a little devious. “M’sorry, I think I can't give ya more than four stars. Ya didn’t even wake me up like a new husband should.”

“Next time I’m gonna be better, I swear.” Jack promises, immediately realizing even though he’s joking, there really won’t be another next time. 

Even if they live in the same city, New York is so big the chances of running into each other are slim at best. They haven’t seen each other in years, ever since they were kids, and it’s probably going to be another twenty or thirty years if they don’t do anything.

So Jack does the only thing he can think of. 

“We should trade numbers, I mean for the Vegas stuff. I know we both put down our contact information but who knows if one will get news before the other.” He tries. 

It sounded like a good enough excuse he reasoned. There really shouldn’t be any complications, but at the same time it’s better if they could contact each other just to make sure. Heck they could add each other on social media later, maybe Brock would like to visit his bakery one day. That would be nice.

Brock nods, smiling again, like he’s glad Jack asked. He says it’s good to have Jack’s number as he takes the phone and inputs it in, Jack gives it a call so Brock has his. 

“Hey, don’t be a stranger, yeah?” Brock says as he takes his own luggage. “We're literally married.”

Jack nods, feeling a little giddy and maybe a little light-headed as he watches Brock climb into an awaiting cab and they give each other one last wave for the day. When he looks down at the screen of his own phone, he can’t help himself but grin stupidly. Brock has saved himself as Mr. Rollins.

*****

After that day they keep messaging each other.

It starts when Brock comments on one of the bakery's instagram pictures that Jack’s in, one of those ‘behind the scenes’ type of pictures Clint loves taking randomly and immediately uploads without letting him see how it turned out much to Jack’s dismay sometimes. This time he’s covered in a fine dusting of flour while he’s been working nonstop on dough. His hair is a little messy, strands of it fall over his forehead and his apron is really dirty from all the work he’s been doing. God knows why that picture is the one Brock decides to comment on.

In the end it snowballs from there and it barely takes a whole day before he talks more with Brock than with Wanda and Clint combined, and they’re the ones he works with.

Wanda also started affectionately referring to Brock as Jack's hubby and at least it’s better than Clint calling Brock his main squeeze side piece, which..Jack supposes it does have a ring to like his friend keeps saying but he’s still going to frown in disapproval any time it’s said.

He’d tried to keep the whole  _ married _ thing underwraps, but Clint is a sneaky fuck when he wants to be and starts yelling and interrogating him in the middle of the bakery the moment his phone lights up and it says  _ Mr. Rollins _ on it. Wanda immediately joins in and even though Pietro was supposed to be doing deliveries, he’d magically shown up too for the juicy details. He elaborates enough that they’re satisfied, but makes sure the ‘ _waking up in bed naked with Brock_ ’ part is left out.

Brock suggests getting a coffee together and they meet up after a week, once Jack’s managed to get work under control again. It's comfortable, and he notices that Brock still has his ring on his finger, the tungsten band glinting noticeably against his tanned skin.

Jack still wears his too, not at work though but he keeps it in his pocket for safekeeping when it isn’t on. Still, they don't make a big deal out of the fact that they do most of the time wear them.

It feels, even if Jack has repeatedly denied it to Wanda and Clint that it's not true, like they’re dating.

Jack isn't blind, well..partially true, he had admired Brock's body before even figuring out that it  _ was _ Brock, a person he genuinely likes, but it's worse now. If he wakes up in the middle of the night to his dick remembering things his foggy memory doesn’t, he keeps it all a secret because no one really needs to know those details.

Either way, Jack can appreciate beauty but he's more attracted by competence and someone that can make him laugh, and Brock has both of those abilities in spades. Even just looking at the pictures he posts on his own Instagram; they’re inspirational, confident and at times overly playful and funny. Maybe he’s spent way too much time looking at them.

Brock is so dedicated and passionate about boxing, he talks with so much breathtaking conviction that it’s laced into every word, even when they’re only texts. Jack hasn't felt this kind of passion from anyone he’s ever tried dating or talking to, and he’s only seen it in himself. 

Soon, he starts stalking Brock on his facebook, looking at all of Brock's friends and trying to see if, maybe, there is someone who could be Brock's boyfriend. Not that he’s mentioned a boyfriend, but he’s mentioned a lot of exes and Jack’s mind put it into his brain that maybe he’s just trying to keep that under wraps for the annulment. 

The only thing he manages to find is that Clint's girlfriend who he hasn’t met yet is a friend of Brock's and apparently works at the same gym as him. He stops himself from calling Clint and asking if he can have Natasha's number because, contrary to what Wanda says about the amount of talking he does with Brock, he does have a level of  _ chill _ and hasn’t lost it. 

After three weeks, their texts are full of stupid and silly jokes, they constantly emote and send memes or comment on each other’s posts and at that point Jack's cell phone chimes every couple of minutes.

Clint says he's pathetic, and a part of Jack is forced to agree with him, but it's not like he can help it.

It seems incredible that they haven’t seen each other in twenty years and yet Jack falls in love again in a second. Because yeah, he figured that out too. He’d definitely been in love with Brock before he had to move away. It wasn’t some dumb childish crush he’d assumed before.

Because he knows it's love. That feeling he thought was gone came rushing right back like it never left him.

“God, Wanda..” He helplessly mumbles, looking at the last text Brock has sent him which is a photo his friend Bucky took after a run in the park; Brock’s all breathless and ruddy cheeked, his hair dampened with sweat as he’s sitting against a tree looking exhausted. He’s utterly perfect. “I’m in love with my husband.”

A week passes and Wanda still shakes her head at him like a mom that wants to say  _ I told you so _ to her son but just doesn’t have the heart to. 

*****

In the end, instead of a phone call to fly back to Vegas like he thought would happen, all he gets is a letter; official documents that declare Jack’s marriage with Brock annulled. 

Jack stares at the letter, but he doesn't know what to feel.

Should he be happy? He is a little he supposes, being married felt weird he can’t lie about that, but he’s sad that the one thing that kept him connected to Brock is now gone.

He hesitates a little before taking a picture of the document and sending it to Brock. He doesn’t know if the other received a copy, probably he did, but he still needs an excuse to talk to him.

There's nothing keeping them from falling out of touch with each other now. For all he knows, Brock’s only been entertaining the time with him so they stay on a friendly basis. It doesn’t seem like it, but it’s something Jack can’t push aside completely. 

It’s barely been two months and yet Jack doesn't even remember how he lived without Brock.

The phone startles him when it chimes with a text almost immediately and he looks down at the screen to see that it’s his brand new ex-husband. 

_ Wanna go out for a beer to celebrate being free men? _

Jack doesn't even hesitate before answering with a yes. He needs any sort of excuse to see Brock in person, find a way to make the other want to meet again. He might ask for some boxing lessons, or maybe he could convince Brock now’s the time to finally look into those basic cooking lessons he asked Jack to teach him.

He realizes he's panicking a little, flashes back to that morning where this all started, and the wild beat of his own heart feels strangely similar from that day.

Jack is as scared now, with all the ties keeping him close to Brock being severed, like when he had discovered he had married a total stranger. It's telling.

A part of him knows that maybe he could just ask Brock out for real. Now that they’re both free from the marriage, it wouldn't feel forced, Brock could make a decision without anything to cloud his judgement. There wouldn’t be any awkward moment of  _ can we really date if we are already married?,  _ or nothing to keep them together if Brock decided he doesn’t want anything to do with Jack now.

He thinks about it all day. He thinks about it on the subway, while walking down the street, entering the bar and looking around for Brock. Jack has almost convinced himself he can do it, and then he sees Brock on the other side of the room near the back, waving at him.

He looks good, of course he does, and Jack realizes that as much as he wants to do it, he doesn't have the courage to.

Brock pats the seat beside him and Jack quickly sits down in the booth with a flash of a smile. There’s already a bottle of beer in front of him and of course, it’s his favourite.

If he doesn't say anything, if he just tries to keep being friends with Brock, he doesn't have to let any of this go. It's better, in the long run. “Sorry I’m late, have you waited long?”

Brock shakes his head and drinks some of his beer. Jack notices immediately that the ring isn’t on Brock's finger anymore and a part of his heart feels broken.

“Nah, ain’t been that long.” Brock reassures him. “I got ‘ere maybe about ten minutes before you.”

Jack nods and takes a swig of his own beer.

It hasn’t been this awkward between them since the morning after their wedding, and Jack tries to think of something to say. Only nothing comes to mind.

In the end it’s Brock that breaks the ice by putting some photographs on the table. Jack looks down surprised, but he’s also curious about what they are and finally it kicks in as to what he’s looking at. 

Jack picks up one of the photos slowly. In the picture Jack is kissing Brock’s ring while whoever has to be their officiant is looking at them with a smile. Brock looks.. _really_ wasted, if he has to be honest, but also soft in a way that almost surprises him.

“These are..” Jack starts, picking up another photo. In it Brock is leaning over a street jeweller’s wares on a sidewalk. His display has a lot of pretty and elegant rings in cases, but Jack easily recognizes their simple black tungsten bands in the last row. Jack’s hand is also in the image, pointing at them, so it wasn’t too hard to piece together how they chose which ones to wear at that point.

“Photos of our weddin’. That camera I ‘ad, when we got back I musta put it away, guess I forgot about it then. I developed ‘em yesterday. I thought you should ‘ave ‘em.” Brock says with a smile, looking over at them. “We were real wasted, Jackie.”

Jack nods, pushing down the emotion he‘s feeling to the fond nickname, picking up another picture instead. In this one they are exchanging their rings in the chapel, while an Elvis impersonator is singing in the background. It almost feels surreal.

“Thank you.” He replies, and he really means that because he realizes that he  _ needed _ them. Something to hold and remember all of this.

This has been the best and strangest seven and a half weeks of his life.

“We can make a scrapbook or some shit.” Brock offers. “Ya know, somethin’ romantic. To remember our weddin’ night.”

Jack laughs at the idea, but also secretly loves it. He wonders if he can actually do it and keep it a secret from anyone else. 

“I just want to say that next time..” He picks up a couple of blurry, out of focus ones. “We should hire a photographer.” 

Brock barks out a laugh and picks up a photo of himself where he’s smiling at the camera. The picture is terrible, shaky and too bright. Drunk Jack is a terrible photographer.

“I like some of ‘em.” Brock insists, but Jack knows it’s impossible, too many of them are framed wrong, or just not focused right. Brock is only being kind.

“So, I was thinking..” Jack finds himself saying, falling back on trying to make excuses. “Another thing I’m terrible at is having a gym routine and was wondering if maybe we should work together on a program for me or something? Maybe it would be easier to work out like that?”

Brock looks at him a second before he shakes his head. “Ya don’t really need it, what yer doin’ is good fer the time bein’.”

It’s swift and abrupt, a short rejection that Jack hadn’t expected.

It had been the best excuse Jack could come up with, and he’s left taken aback by Brock shooting it down so hastily.

Jack opens his mouth to try again, but nothing comes to his mind. All the excuses he had thought of before now seem pointless and stupid.

“I was thinkin’ m’self.” Brock says out of the blue. “Figured maybe we could go to a movie tomorrow. Or get some dinner after yer off work?”

Jack glances up in surprise, sees Brock staring at him intensely. There’s something so determined in his eyes, but there’s also a nervousness Jack hadn’t seen in a long time. Not since their breakfast the morning after.

It almost looks like Brock is scared.

Unsure of what to do, Jack holds his breath a moment, scared of being _wrong_.

“Are you..?” He starts to say, but then he stops. What if that’s  _ not _ what Brock was doing? What if Jack ruins everything by assuming that?

“I was askin' you out, dumbass.” Brock confirms, a tease of a smile at his lips. His voice sounds irritated but in that fond way it goes when Jack says something stupid that he could have probably easily looked up on the internet like asking what a twunk was but he also realizes that he’s scared too. He would be too, if the roles were reversed and Jack found the courage to confess.

He takes a moment too long to answer, still shocked by the turn of events, and he sees the moment Brock starts closing off, assuming he’s about to be rejected.

“Yes, of course we can do something. Yes.” He hastily replies, reaching out to take Brock’s hand for good measure. “God, Brock. Yeah, that’s what I’d like too.”

Brock beams and it’s a great look on him, glancing down at his own beer before he stares at their hands and locks their fingers together. “Good then.” He breathes out. “Great.” 

“Great.” Jack echoes, feeling a little stupid, maybe a little delirious. He’s smiling too wide, he realizes, but can’t help himself at this moment.

“I gotta warn ya though..” Brock starts, a playful smirk at his lips. “I jus went through a divorce and I’m tryin’ not to leap into anythin’ too fast. I ‘ope that ain’t a problem.”

Jack laughs, it sounds maybe a little hysterical but he’s relieved after all this. “I think..” He trails off, pretending to think about it as he runs his thumb across Brock’s and then gives a nod. “Yeah, I think I can live with that just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title's from Nobody by Mitski


End file.
